


Friends Save Friends

by TARDISTraveller42



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-03-26 16:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19009717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TARDISTraveller42/pseuds/TARDISTraveller42
Summary: Short stories where friendship saves the day -- and maybe a life or two.Or, an excuse for me to write hurt/comfort.





	1. Chapter 1

Story 1

The Doctor knew the feeling well enough, but it was startling every time. A dangerous situation, one that had a chill racing down his spine and his hair standing on edge. Dread pooling in his stomach, mixing nauseatingly with the ever-present hope that he always kept for emergencies. And then time slowing down. As if this were a movie, and someone had bumped the remote control at the most pivotal moment.

If only this were a movie.

Gods, let this be a movie. 

Where were his companions? Hopefully not anywhere near him; nor near the sword-wielding man staring at him like he was a pig on a roast. 

Did this planet have pigs? Or roasts? Or men? How could he know; the fear had erased that all from his memory. After the word ‘sword-wielding’, his brain had short circuited.

Great time for that to happen.

Ah, yes, Nardole was here. A quick, probably life-threatening, glance told him so. The worried cyborg was standing ten feet away, giving him wide eyes beneath a sweaty forehead. Good old Nardole. Knows when he should be worried.

One last question: where was Bill? 

Another daring glance, and there she was; fighting off a different guy. That one didn’t have a sword, at least. Just a snarling face and nunchucks, of all things.

‘Oh Bill’, the Doctor thought sadly, ‘I’m so sorry’.

What did he usually do, when time slowed down and he was cornered with an enemy approaching? Talk? Yes; talk!

“We can come to an agreement,” he said, groaning internally. What was he, an amateur? New at this? They never wanted to ‘agree’. Bad guys with swords didn’t stop to chat over a cuppa. 

The man laughed horribly, lifting his sword ever higher. Two hesitant steps back, and another fearful glance at Nardole, who was helping Bill with her ruffian now. 

At least maybe they’d be safe. Or only taken prisoner. Hopefully not hurt or…

The Doctor swallowed over the lump forming in his throat. 

“If you let my friends go…” he started, unsure where he wanted to go with that. 

“And why would I do that?” The sword guy asked. He sounded a bit like a pirate. Not a cool pirate, either. Just one of the greedy ones, in it for the money and gold. 

Silver glistened. And it wasn’t until a second too late that the Doctor could place what it was.

Pain, erupting from his midriff and then radiating out. 

And suddenly the world was tilting; Nardole and Bill shouted in sync, but he didn’t know what they were saying. Maybe a new pop song? Vision dimming; flickering. Was the electricity going out?

And then more pain, as his back collided with the floor and his head followed, settling against the tile. The ceiling, staring down at him. Bright and white and hurting his eyes.

Was the room that tall earlier? 

Other sounds now; other bodies hitting the floor. Whose bodies? Nardole! And Bill!

No, there they were standing over him. Their images moved slowly; slower than they did, in fact, which created a weird optical effect. Like watching your hand move through water; not quite right, but not foreign either.

“Doctor?” Nardole said, afraid but masking it beneath a thin layer of feigned control.

Good old Nardole.

Someone was kneeling on his right side, touching his shoulder. Bill. What was she saying?

“Doctor, can you hear me?”

No, that was Nardole again.

“Yes,” he tried. It came out all garbled. Had he forgotten how to speak? What the hell was in that sword?

Oh.

Suddenly everything rushed back. Time stood still. His brain caught up. Everything was making more sense now.

And everything was starting to hurt again, too.

“Doctor,” Bill’s shaky voice called. Her fingers were resting on his cheek now; to calm him, he supposed.

He lifted his right hand in her general direction until she latched onto it with both of her own.

“Bill,” he gasped. That took a lot out of him, and he breathed three times to recover.

Suddenly his stomach erupted in pain again. His vision blackened for a moment as someone cried out. No, wait. As he cried out. And then he came back into focus and found Nardole looking very apologetic. 

The Doctor looked down and found both of Nardole’s hands on his abdomen.

His abdomen, which had far too much red covering it. Soaking his waistcoat, through his shirt. Pouring onto Nardole’s hands. Pooling on the floor...

The Doctor let his head fall back, eyes drifting to the ceiling again.

“I’m sorry,” Nardole said through tears.

“Not your fault,” the Doctor murmured. Only it came out messy again, half of it remaining in his throat somewhere. 

Bill squeezed his hand, breathing shakily.

“Stay with us, Doctor.”

Was he really doing that badly? He didn’t feel so bad. Perhaps that was a bad thing?

How many times had could he use the word ‘bad’ to describe this day?

Another explosion of pain, even more sudden this time, and his vision went out completely. 

When he opened his eyes next, Nardole was jogging beside him. Colors were flashing by, walls whizzing past. Even the ceiling was moving. He tilted his head and closed his eyes to avoid it all.

“We’re almost there,” said a voice. Someone he knew. Not Nardole. Not Bill. Someone he hadn’t seen for a while. “Just hold on.”

He opened his eyes and the walls had stopped moving. There were lots of people now; all wearing scrubs and facemasks. All looking at him. They rushed around, to and fro, like there was some kind of big commotion. 

He found his left hand and noticed a tube going into it; closed his eyes again. Nauseated. Then he found the right, and saw two hands still holding onto his. 

Bill.

He looked up and saw her face, for the first time in what felt like a long time, but what also felt like five minutes. She smiled through tears.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

For some reason, he believed her. He smiled. 

His eyes drifted closed.

And then they opened. 

Chaos. Rapid beeping. Deep, gasping breaths. Someone shouting. One or two pleading.

His eyes closed again.

And all the commotion suddenly, finally stopped.

There was silence, and the faint smell of lavender. There was a calm, restful beating. Beeping. Not the shrill of an alarm; just a steady thrum. Like a drum. And the air was stale. Clean and sterile.

Like a…

His eyes flashed open, a light above making his head instantly ache. And then there were two hands in both of his again, each from a different person. A large hand on his shoulder; a smaller one on his forehead.

He blinked, and the light and dancing colors eased into an image. Bill to the right, and Nardole to the left. Both smiling. Both safe. An annoying light glowing right in between them on the ceiling.

He breathed in and felt two cannula in his nose, wrapping up behind his ears. The beeping was coming from the monitor standing behind Nardole, registering both of his hearts. A tube still ran into his hand.

Both of them were still holding onto him. Like they’d never let go.

“Doctor?” Nardole asked, gentle. “How are you feeling?”

Bill threw him a look, which he answered with a silent, mouthed response. The Doctor merely smirked.

“Not my best,” he muttered. His throat made him sound worse than he felt, which was a feat. 

Suddenly there was a liquid being poured into his mouth, while someone else supported his head. He swallowed it gratefully, too tired to care about the bit that spilled onto his chest. His bare chest. Right. Not alert enough to care about that, either.

And then he was laid back on the pillow, both hands in his friends’ once more.

“You gave us a real scare,” Nardole said quietly. He looked down right after he said it, biting his bottom lip. Embarrassed or shy. Or still scared.

“I’m sorry,” the Doctor murmured, his eyes drifting closed. Then they opened again just as suddenly. “Where are we?”

“UNIT,” Bill said. “Kate found us soon after, er…”

Her voice broke off, teary. The Doctor’s eyes flickered down to his blanket, then over to the bandages covering his stomach.

So many bandages. How bad had it been? Had he been close to regeneration? Or did it just look worse than it was?

He turned to Nardole for answers of some kind. But Nardole wouldn’t even meet his eye anymore. He just stared, blankly, and held his hand so tightly it hurt a little bit.

“Thank you both.” The Doctor cleared his throat. “For everything.”

“Of course,” Nardole said, hardly above a whisper.

“You two weren’t hurt?”

Bill shook her head.

“After we saw you go down, we went kind of berserk fighting off the guys. And then Kate came with her team. Arrested both of them for life.”

“No one was killed?”

Bill sniffed, looked down. Nardole’s grip tightened yet further.

“No. Nobody was killed,” he assured. Then he looked down as well, swallowing shakily.

“What’s wrong?” The Doctor asked. The pit in his stomach deepened.

“We almost lost you today, Doctor.” 

Nardole finally met his eyes, and the Doctor almost wished he hadn’t. The cyborg’s were wet and teary; red.

“You…” Bill swallowed hard. “You coded once before the surgery. And once during.”

The Doctor felt his teeth chatter against each other. Another shiver ran up his spine.

One afternoon trip; one man with a sword...he didn’t even feel the burn of regeneration. He actually might have just...died. Twice. 

“I’m okay,” he said, reassuring himself as well as his friends.

“I know,” Bill croaked. “I know.”

Nardole squeezed his hand yet tighter, but the Doctor let him. If he’d seen his friends die twice in one day, then he’d feel exactly the same way. 

“Doctor; promise me…” Nardole cleared his throat. “Promise me you’ll keep out of trouble.”

“Nardole, I…”

“Not now. When you’ve recovered. When we’re back in your office, and you’re well again.”

The Doctor nodded.

“Now,” Nardole said, acquiring his ‘mom’ voice. “You both need to get to sleep.”

“What about you?” Bill asked.

“I’m half cyborg. I don’t need sleep.”

“That’s not true,” the Doctor chided. “I should know, I built him.”

Nardole gave him a look that shut him up.

“Bill, there’s a bed next door.”

“But…”

“You’re not gonna get any sleep on the couch in here. I’ll keep an eye on him, and I’ll wake you if anything happens. But you need to sleep.”

Bill sighed, but her tired eyes seemed thankful.

“Goodnight, Doctor. Feel better.” She kissed his knuckles before letting go.

“Goodnight, Bill.”

Nardole closed the door behind Bill, and then sat beside the Doctor again.

“So I’ve gotta put up with you all night?” The Doctor joked.

“Other way around, I think.” Nardole smirked, but his eyes were sad. “Get some sleep, Doctor. Your body needs it after today.”

“Nardole?” The Doctor’s eyes fluttered, but he forced them to stay open.

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I think you saved my life today.”

Nardole almost dismissed it. But then he sat up straighter and took the Doctor’s hand again.

“I think I did.” Nardole’s eye turned serious. “But please don’t make me do it again.”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Now get to sleep.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but then closed them gratefully. 

He fell asleep easily, despite some lingering pain in his abdomen. And he felt Nardole’s hand in his for the rest of the night, whether he was fully conscious of it or not. 

And it brought him peace.


	2. Story 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...sorry...i promise it's a little fluffy! But yeah, mostly angst 😬

Story 2

Space was the Doctor’s favorite place. The endless abyss of darkness should have been frightening, but it wasn’t. The empty, vacuum-shut non-atmosphere should have made him feel alone, but it didn’t. In the dark days, just after he’d thought he lost Gallifrey, space had brought him peace. It was somewhere he could stare, and know that even though it looked endless, it really wasn’t.

Even though it felt like forever, it wasn’t.

And now, when he was with his friends and they were laughing and they were hovering above a beautiful planet millions of miles below them…It was heaven. Or the closest thing to it, at least. 

“What’s that smell?” Nardole suddenly asked.

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“Not one of these jokes again,” he murmured.

Almost at the same time, Bill groaned, “Nardole, how old are you?”

But Nardole wasn’t kidding. His face had turned serious, as comical as it looked with a bowler hat on top of it. (The Doctor had told him costumes were unnecessary and foolish…)

“No, I really think something’s wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong with my TARDIS!” The Doctor said firmly.

Even so, he glanced around the Console room. The mood lighting shone dimly, making it look either eerie or comfortable, depending on the person. All the gears seemed to be in the right place, the Time Rotor groaning up and down in time with the Doctor’s breath.

“It’s fine,” Bill assured, with a nervous lilt cracking in her voice.

The Doctor stayed in the doorway while the other two crept toward the Console. He tried to focus on the stars and the planets in the distance. Nothing was wrong. But now he could smell something odd, just like Nardole said. Something he’d smelled before. 

His eyes widened, heels squeaking on the floor as he spun around.

“Get under the Console!” he shouted.

They obeyed, accustomed to expecting the unexpected on TARDIS travels. But for the Doctor, it was too late.

The air shell shattered like glass, throwing the TARDIS off balance. She tilted just enough to throw her thief out the open doors and into space. With the air shell, this wouldn’t have been a big deal at all; the TARDIS would have protected him for another twenty feet. But with it suddenly broken, the atmosphere just one inch outside the door was as empty as deep space.

The Doctor lost his footing, hearing his name called out. But as soon as his head passed over the barrier of the doorway, all sound stopped. The effect was so sudden that a ringing hit his ears. That was the first thing he noticed.

The second thing he noticed was that he was drifting; hovering, more like, just five or six feet from the TARDIS. Nothing at all, if he could only move. But he couldn’t. 

In the emptiness of space, there was nothing to wade through. A pool without water. Space without air.

His vision started tunneling. That was the third thing he noticed, as his slow brain realized he was in the middle of outer space with no protective gear. The stars were blinking around the edges, leaving the middle filled with a pure blackness from which no light could escape. 

He tried to call out, but he couldn’t hear himself. Had he made a sound? Hopefully. But no one would hear him anyway, so what did it matter? ‘In space, no one can hear you scream’. Not even his friends ten feet away from him.

Bill and Nardole, for their part, ran to the door as soon as they saw the Doctor fall out. But the image of him drifting breathlessly into space stuck them to where they stood. A second passed in which they could only stare. Only watch. Only worry. 

Then, luckily, Bill blinked herself out of her daze.

“We have to do something!” She shouted, grabbing Nardole’s sleeve.

“Hold onto me,” he said. His voice sounded stronger than she’d ever heard it. And not in that fake tough-guy act he sometimes tried to pull. He really sounded intent on...whatever his mad plan was.

Bill followed his instructions, locking her hands around his arm as he stared blankly into the space in front of the doorway. 

The Doctor still wasn’t moving. Or breathing. Or speaking. Or anything else the Doctor was always, always doing. That was what scared Bill most of all. Sure, she’d always known space to be dangerous. But for some reason it seemed like it couldn’t touch the Doctor. He was made of space stuff; more than most people. 

And yet he was being suffocated by it.

“Whatever happens, don’t let yourself fall out,” Nardole said suddenly. 

“What?!”

He didn’t expand on that little comment, just took a deep breath and then stepped out into space. Bill kept her hold on his arm at first, hooking her leg behind the door frame. But even when Nardole reached out as far as he could, he couldn’t grab onto the Doctor. 

Silently, because Nardole was in space now and couldn’t hear her, Bill communicated enough with him so they could maneuver to a new position. She carefully took a hold of one of his legs, then the other. Soon enough, she was holding onto both of his feet while he glided up toward the Doctor. 

When Nardole’s hands latched onto the Doctor, it took all of his willpower not to shout out in his triumph. But he kept his mouth shut, pulled the Doctor closer to himself, and closed his eyes. Bill reeled him back in, feet first; slowly. 

Just as suddenly as his terrifying mission had started, Nardole was back in the TARDIS. And this time, he had the Doctor in tow. As soon as his feet hit the floor, he grabbed the Doctor under the armpits and dragged him inside. Bill shut the doors for him, so that they were all finally safe.

Well, as safe as they could be at the moment.

“Doctor? Can you hear me?” Nardole begged, rapidly tapping his friend’s cheek.

Bill leaned her head down, listening for a breath. Where was the breath? Was he alive? Was he…?

“He’s not breathing!”

She and Nardole met eyes for a second. A second in which they shared grief, fear, sadness, and determination all at once. And then they set to work again.

Nardole pinched the Doctor’s nose shut and breathed into his mouth. 

Once. Twice.

Then Bill shifted over to his still chest. “I did CPR training,” she murmured. 

Voice shaking. Hands shaking.

One. Two. Three…

She shoved her interlocked hands into the Doctor’s chest, rocking her own body to the proper beat to keep in time. Staying alive; staying alive.

Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten…

Her gym-trained arms were merciless, probably bruising ribs left and right. But Nardole was touching his neck, feelinf for a pulse that wasn’t there. And this was the Doctor and he could take her pounding on his chest but he couldn’t take not breathing and not having a pulse.

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen…

How long had he been out there? It couldn’t have been long, even though it had felt like forever. Why had they been stuck staring at him when they could have been saving him faster? What if…?

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

Sweat beaded down Bill’s forehead, mixing with tears she didn’t know were already falling. He had always seemed invincible, somehow. Like nothing could touch him. Especially not…

She daren’t think the word. No. She couldn’t even consider it.

Twenty-five. Twenty-six. Twenty-seven.

God, he was pale. He always was, but that was in a normal way; something she could joke about and buy him a bottle of sunscreen for. This was not a Scottish pale. This was the color of…

Don’t think the word; not yet. Not today. Not ever, frankly.

Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty.

Bill sat up, panting, as Nardole bent down to give him two more breaths. A second to breathe, feeling the painful irony that she, a mere human, had breath in her lungs but her Timelord friend did not. 

And then Nardole was coming up for air, but the Doctor was lying so still and he wasn’t breathing and it was time for more compressions. So Bill straightened her arms and locked her hands again. 

She waited for the confirmation from Nardole, as his fingers pressed pleadingly into the Doctor’s neck. And the confirmation came in a watery shake of the head. Still not breathing. That’s what that meant. Still no heartbeat. 

The man had two hearts and neither of them were working.

One. Two. Three.

Bill sniffed; blinked the tears out of her eyes and let them fall onto her hands. The world blurred into colors: the black and white of the Doctor’s suit; the pale beige of his face; the tan of Nardole’s shoes on the opposite side of the Doctor.

Nine. Ten. Eleven.

“Doctor,” she croaked. “Come on. Come on.”

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.

She hadn’t submitted all of those essays about space just for her tutor to die in its lack of atmosphere. They hadn’t travelled to so many planets just for him to suffocate in a world of emptiness. She hadn’t run so far with him just for him to die silently on his back, unknowing to the world around him.

Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twe-

A cough. A broken gasp, and then another.

His back arched off of the floor, chest heaving for a clean breath. Awful sounds, like he was choking. But Bill just let out an anxious laugh at the fact that he was even making sounds.

Nardole steadied him with a hand on his back, while Bill rocked back onto her heels and tried to breathe herself. Her arms ached. Her chest ached. Everything ached. But everything also felt perfectly fine, because the Doctor was coughing and his eyes were open. He was alive alive alive.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” Nardole murmured, rocking the Doctor onto his lap.

It would have been a sweet image in any other situation, to see the Doctor lying with his head and shoulders in Nardole’s close hold, eyes red and leaking tears; Nardole rubbing his arm and rocking him like a baby. But it only made the ache in Bill’s chest worsen.

She realized now that she’d never seen him cry before. Tear up, sure. But not this. Never this.

“It’s alright,” she said, as she smoothed his hair back. Her voice was absolutely shattered, but she didn’t care. 

“Bill,” the Doctor said hoarsely. 

She sniffed, louder than she meant to, and cleared her throat.

“Hey. I’m here.”

“Are you...and Nardole…?” He coughed again. And then he took a frighteningly stuttering breath, which made Bill’s heart drop so far into her stomach that she couldn’t respond.

“We’re fine. We’re all fine,” Nardole answered, still rocking the Doctor with both hands cradled around him. 

A quick smile flashed across the Doctor’s lips, gone as soon as it appeared. His forehead creased, and suddenly more tears were running down his face.

“I was afraid…” he met Bill’s eyes, the look on his face like an abandoned puppy dog. 

And Bill couldn’t stand it anymore. So she pulled him into a hug. And Nardole pulled them both into a hug. And they stayed in this awkward three person cuddle on the floor for an endless amount of time. 

. . . . . . 

Minutes or hours, perhaps days later (time had really lost its meaning), the Doctor stood leaned against the TARDIS console staring into space. Literally. The doors of the TARDIS were open again, the outer shell repaired and duct-taped over to fix it for good. And so the Doctor stared, thinking.

What he was thinking was anyone’s guess. Bill and Nardole let him go, for once. Let him ponder or dream or mourn, whatever he was doing. They were on hand nearby in case he needed them, Nardole in a favorite armchair and Bill sitting cross-legged on the flight chair.

“One day I’m going to have to repay you both,” the Doctor said suddenly. With a click of his fingers, the TARDIS doors snapped shut.

“Students usually pay their tutors, actually,” said Bill.

“I’d like a bit of a pay for once,” Nardole joked. His smile faded fast, but Bill was just glad to see it at all today.

The Doctor smiled, too. It was a gentle, warm quirk of the lips that didn’t fix all the terror they had lived through. But it was a start. 

“Thank you both, again. Always saving me.”

“You’d do the same for us,” Bill said. She nudged his shoulder, but it only brought a frown to his face.

“Don’t ever make me have to,” the Doctor said sternly.

“I’ll certainly try,” she said with a grin.

The Doctor decidedly did not grin.

“I don’t think I could bear it.” His frown deepened, eyes looking into Bill’s for a moment too long.

And then he clapped, rather loudly, and punched something into the controls. His eyes brightened in an instant. His shoulders shrugged off the weight of the universe.

And with the excited voice of a nine year-old at a carnival, the Doctor asked, “Where to next?”


End file.
